


In This Moment

by Destina



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-26
Updated: 2007-01-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared and Jensen finally have a day off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent comfortfic, written in January 2007 and posted to AO3 in June 2015. Thanks to estrella30 and Bone for beta.

Fifteen hour days, one after the other, no breaks at all, until the days all blend together into an endless stretch of lights and scripts and dialogue, fake blood and torn clothes and night shoots, cold weather eating into their skin like acid. Jensen misses sunshine; he misses warm rain and the comforting chatter of family surrounding him, so much so that he's almost ready to call and invite some of them up. Maybe all of them. But he might sound too needy for company, too lonely, and then they'll ask too many questions, and he's not in the mood for that, either. 

He hits the marks, says the lines, smiles in between scenes at Jared's jokes, but something's off. Maybe no one can see it but him, or maybe no one cares, as long as there are marks and lines and not too many takes to give him away. But around mid-day, he notices Jared watching him, glances that flick up and then away, and he thinks maybe that's the price he pays for what he gets to have with Jared. Penance, maybe; to be known this well, to have all his weaknesses show. 

He retreats to his trailer when Jared's shooting his solo scenes and sits on the couch, head tilted back; it feels too heavy to hold up. It's Friday, so he's due some down time. Any minute now. Any time. The trailer's silent, and it smells of paint and old laundry and cheap beer, and he hates it, hates the impersonal feel of it, wants to be anywhere else. There's a snap of electric nerves across his skin, the jitter of anticipation - any minute now they'll want him back on set. Someone will come knocking, someone will ask more of him, and he just doesn't have it to give. 

When the knock comes, it's soft, and the door doesn't open right away. Jensen forces his head up and says, "Yeah, coming."

"'S me," Jared says from behind the door, and Jensen drops his head back down. 

"Well, get in here," he calls, like Jared's some kind of crazy man. But he's the one person who doesn't just barge in, the guy who actually respects boundaries. Ironic, that. 

He looks up when Jared looms over him, and sees no Sam clothes. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference, but that's Jared's jacket, and Jared's favorite jeans, the ones Jensen tore by accident the week before, when his fingers slipped inside the frayed threads just a little too hard. "We're done, man," Jared says, flopping down beside him on the couch. Their thighs are touching, and Jensen feels some of the chill seep away, absorbed by Jared's warmth. "Early breakdown so they can set up on location." 

There's something in his voice - something happy, so Jensen raises his head, curious. "What?"

"We don't have to be up there for that part of the shoot until Sunday." Jared grins, a mile of sunshine in the form of teeth and happiness, and Jensen feels the tension in his chest snap at the sight of it. 

"So we're actually getting Saturday off?"

"Yeah. All to ourselves." 

Jensen closes his eyes. One day off a week has been reduced to no days a week for so long that he can't even wrap his head around the concept of a day off - a day and a half, really, if they let them go now, at dusk. Thoughts shimmer at the back of his brain like sweet mirages in the desert: _sleep, eat, tequila, quiet._ But Jared's hand wraps around the back of his neck, and those thoughts change, settle down, become only _Jared_ and _home._

Jared's fingers soothe over his skin, tracing soft patterns of promise. "Hey, let's take off. My place, all right?"

Jensen leans into the touch, centered beneath it like the moon tied to the earth, and nods his head. It's all he wants, and he can feel it in Jared, too, the urge to get moving, to be close, alone. 

It's not far to Jared's place, and Jensen dozes on the way there, his head smashed against the passenger side window. Once he blinks his eyes open just in time to see the market fly by at top speed, and he turns his head to ask Jared if there's milk and bread and coffee at his place, but Jared just nods. Nothing else to say. 

Funny how familiar Jared's space is to Jensen. Funny how they never intended this to get out of hand; funny, how it was never in hand to begin with. He steps inside the darkened room behind Jared and watches Jared fall to the ground with his dogs. So much love there, so much affection, no questions asked, no conditions. Back to the wall, he watches, and then he turns and makes his way to the kitchen. 

There's coffee in the cupboard, and he sets everything up by rote, but his arms feel heavy. Even his fingers seem stiff and numb, too cold to function properly. He sets the canister down and grips the counter's edge, head down, eyes closed again to ward off the burning sting of exhaustion. 

Just then, Jared's arms slide around him, under his own arms. "Leave this 'til later," Jared says, lips pressed just below Jensen's ear, and Jensen nods. Jared's hand slides under his shirt and rests against the skin of his belly, radiating heat; his other arm pulls Jensen back against him, holding him in place. Jared's rock-solid, strong, and Jensen's head falls back against his shoulder. 

"Dogs?" he asks, knowing the answer already; Jared has taken care of them, and now his attention is on other things. 

Jensen turns; Jared's lips touch Jensen's, confirmation, a brush of a kiss, and then he takes Jensen's mouth with slow, patient authority. It's what Jensen wants, and he's anchored there, Jared's hands on his skin, Jared's mouth taking everything from him, nothing he wasn't prepared to give. 

"Come on," Jared says. He pulls away, and the cool air touches Jensen's skin. He shivers, but Jared has his hand and he's tugging Jensen away from the counter, back through the kitchen, toward the bedroom. The house is dark, and the quiet begins to penetrate the static in Jensen's brain; the only sounds are the dogs, running their territory, and Jared's bedroom door clicking shut. 

Jared turns on the lamp and then he runs his hands around Jensen's waist, then back beneath his shirt, a skimming touch that distracts Jensen only until Jared's mouth closes over his again, slow press of lips, almost gentle. Jensen takes hold of his shirt and pulls it over his head, fast enough that Jared's hands are missing only a moment, and then he's free to lay his own hands on Jared, tugging at the low jeans. "Yeah," Jared breathes. 

They both step back, watching each other in the soft light. Jared first; he strips off his shirt and flings it aside, and then the jeans, each button sliding open with a simple touch. He toes off his shoes, pushes his jeans down. When he's standing there naked, something in Jensen gives way, finally, that thing that's been keeping him silent and cold, and need takes over. "Damn," he says softly. It's not the first time he's seen Jared this way - their favorite game used to be strip and stare - but he'll never be used to it being his for the taking. 

"Hey," Jared says, pointing at Jensen's jeans, and that makes Jensen grin. Overdressed, yeah, he gets it. He pulls the zipper and pushes them down, underwear with them. Shoes, socks, whatever, and then he starts to stand up straight, but Jared is right there, god, his body covering Jensen's like any space between them is too much, and his hands are everywhere - fingers splayed across his back, curving across his ass, smoothing the invisible lines from his face. 

There are things Jensen considers saying, but he can't really form the words, and mercifully, Jared gets that. He gets his hands on Jensen's waist and turns him, slow, easy, back toward the bed, and Jensen lets himself fall, because Jared's falling with him. They separate again, easing back on the bed, and Jared picks up the comforter with one hand and draws it up over their legs, just over their hips. 

Jensen sighs out a long breath, and Jared scoots closer, wraps his arms around Jensen again. This is perfect; this is all he needs, but it's not all he wants. He leans forward and mouths soft kisses against Jared's shoulder, and then up the curve of his throat. He wants to take his time; he wants to fall asleep just this way, and never leave the goddamned bed. He wants Jared to flip him over and push inside him, just burrow into him and leave nothing but heat and pleasure behind. He wants hours to taste Jared, to listen to the sounds and cries and rough words he says when he's blissed out on the feel of Jensen's touch. 

It occurs to him he can have all that, if he wants it. Jared's arms around him offer it all. He just has to choose. And maybe he waits too long, maybe the lethargy has too strong a hold on him, because he buries his face in Jared's shoulder and asks him, silent. _You choose._

Jared pushes him on his back and touches their lips together again, another slow, deep press, kisses that pull away all Jensen's ability to think and worry. His mind begins to shut down, brought to submission by the way Jared's mouth pushes his open, the way his tongue touches Jensen's lips, tracing them. Jared catches Jensen's lower lip between his teeth and worries it, and a ragged, shuddering sound makes its way out of Jensen's throat. "God, yeah," Jared whispers, right against his mouth. He lifts his leg and straddles Jensen, crouched low over him, his back arched into the kisses he never stops giving. 

One inch at a time, Jared works his way down Jensen's body, a slow lick across each nipple, the press of teeth against his belly, until finally his hand and his mouth close over and around Jensen's cock at the same moment. Jared sucks gently at the head, then lifts off to fist Jensen quickly, pulling off with a twist near the tip, and Jensen's world grays out for a millisecond. It's beyond good, it's pleasure so deep in his bones that it's like a drug, and Jared's sucking him, tongue swirling behind the ceaseless motion of his hand, pulling it all out of him, the numbness disappearing into brilliant heat. 

He lifts a hand to touch Jared, but Jared deflects it easily, pushing his arm down against the sheet and pinning it briefly. _Stay._ A shudder runs through Jensen and then Jared's hands settle on his hips, holding him there as he sucks and licks and Jensen's orgasm hits, pulling Jared's name from him, a half-broken sound of answered need. 

Jared's kissing him again, the taste of Jensen on his lips, and Jensen can't stop shivering. Jared's pressing fingers into Jensen, slick with lube, and Jensen opens his eyes, cups Jared's face with his hands, telling him _yes_ and _yes_ and _yes_ , so the message is clear. He thinks Jared knows already what he wants, how he wants it; this isn't new for them, either, and it's always so good. Jared rolls him onto his belly and Jensen's legs part when Jared settles between them, when he slides into Jensen, easing in, no pain, just adjustment. The burn of it makes Jensen groan, and Jared shudders over him, teeth settled at the edge of Jensen's shoulder. 

"Yeah," Jensen says, and Jared moves again, thrusting deeper. Then he wraps his arms around Jensen and pulls, lifting Jensen back onto his thighs, seated fully inside him. His arms are shaking, and Jensen can feel his body trembling around Jared. It's not too much, but it's close, and he lifts his hips, wringing a soft cry from Jared. "Fuck me," he whispers, and Jared holds him tight, rolls his hips into Jensen's body, slow, steady, until he's so deep inside Jensen that finally, finally, everything else falls away, and there's just the press of Jared's body, just Jared's hands on him, just Jared's hissed gasps against the back of his neck. 

Jared's saying something, words that alternate between nonsense and truth, things like _mine_ and _hush now_ and _yeah, Jen, God, yeah_ , and Jensen can't come again like this but there's bliss threading through him like light, seeking out all those raw places and soothing over them. Jared's hips stutter against his and he breaks, finally, coming inside Jensen like he's never wanted to be anywhere else. _Like home_ , Jensen thinks, and for the first time he doesn't put the thought aside. 

They stay like that, Jensen wrapped up in Jared's arms, until Jensen shifts and breaks the mood. Jared slips out of his body and tosses the condom, and Jensen turns on his knees, aching and still in need of more, of _something._

Jared's kisses, slow and searching, seem to do the trick. 

The sheets are cool, but Jensen doesn't notice much, not with Jared's body wrapped around him, his back to the furnace that is Jared's chest. "Light," he mumbles, not caring all that much, and Jared reaches out a long arm to switch it off. When he yanks up the comforter, Jensen thinks for a moment of all those nights he broke land speed records to get dressed and run away, of the uncertainty of all this when it was new. 

But then Jared snores against the back of his neck, and Jensen turns his face into the curve of Jared's arm, and the memory fades into the now.


End file.
